


Paeonia Japonica

by emothy



Category: Prince of Tennis
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-12-10
Updated: 2006-12-10
Packaged: 2017-10-05 05:07:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,213
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/38113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emothy/pseuds/emothy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Yukimura meets Fuji while in hospital and an unusual friendship of sorts is struck. Set before the Seigaku/Rikkai match.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Paeonia Japonica

**Author's Note:**

> **Original challenge:** Hospital sex. Fuji/Yukimura, if possible.

-

The first time Yukimura sees Fuji Syuusuke, he is making his way to someone else's hospital room with a bunch of flowers in his hand, and a tennis bag thrown over his shoulder. Fuji never sees him watching; he is walking away in the opposite direction, but he makes Yukimura stop and think, adding to the collection of thoughts in his mind he has nothing but time for, now.

The second time, Fuji is not walking in the opposite direction, and they almost bump into one another in the hallway.

"I'm sorry, I wasn't looking... Oh." Yukimura says, and feels terribly stupid.

"Oh?" Fuji asks.

"You forgot your flowers today." Yukimura smiles. "Whoever she is, she'll be disappointed."

Fuji smiles back.

"He'll get over it." He replies. "Though perhaps next time I shall bring some for you; I find hospital rooms always need brightening up."

-

Yukimura was never much of a writer, but since he has been in hospital with nothing to do, nowhere to go, and more often than not, no-one to talk to, he has had the urge to write things down for preservation. Nothing epic, and no poetry; just plain and simple words on napkins put beside his bed next to the bottled water and the plastic cup to pour into. Sometimes he writes down the times the doctors and nurses come to check on him, and turns the napkin over so that they won't see. He would have written down the names of the children who always want to hear his stories, but he has them all committed to memory, so has no need.

_Fuji Syuusuke_, he writes on a napkin one evening. While on the phone to Yanagi he enquires about the Seigaku team players; it is not unusual for a captain to be curious about the team his own will next be playing.

"What did he look like?" Yanagi asks idly. "Maybe I will be able to tell you which member it was."

"Brown hair, in his eyes, blue eyes..." Yukimura says. "Though I didn't see them much. He smiled a lot..." Yukimura is so used to the innocent smiles of children, or pitying smiles from staff now. "It was such a nice smile."

"Seichii..." Yanagi begins nervously.

"Renji?" Yukimura demands coldly. The slip was uncharacteristic of him.

"Hmm." Yanagi pretends to be thinking. "Sounds like Fuji Syuusuke. The tennis _tensai_ of Seigaku."

-

"White Peonies." Yukimura smiles. "_Paeonia Japonica_."

"They are supposed to represent healing," Fuji gives them a little water in the saucer and places them on Yukimura's bedside table before he can think to get up. "And, if my grandmother's stories are to be believed, somewhere back in my family, once, an ancestor of mine used the root as a treatment for convulsions."

"Fortunately I won't be requiring that remedy."

"No." Fuji agrees. "So you'll be able to keep these little ones alive."

"Your last lot of flowers came in a bouquet." Yukimura points out.

"Ah, but my friend had injured his ligament in his leg; he is home now, and the flowers would be wilted."

"Another reminder that my stay here is by no means temporary."

Yukimura pulls his knees up to his chest, and rests his chin, on his hands, on his knees. Fuji watches him for a moment, then gestures to the pot of flowers.

"Think of them as friends keeping you company." He offers. "Because not all of us are able to visit as often as we would like, Yukimura."

"Fuji Syuusuke." Yukimura bats back with a small smile. "Tennis _tensai_."

Fuji glances at him, his eyes open and teasing as they catch the light.

"And who told you that?" he asks with a smile of his own, that warm sunny one.

"I don't disclose my sources." Yukimura says primly. "I just discover in my own time whether they are accurate or not."

-

"Don't speak of this to anyone." Yukimura says as they stand on the roof of the hospital, a borrowed racket in his tight grip. It has been too long since he's held a tennis racket, and now he does not want to let go.

"Seichii, we're doing nothing wrong." Fuji says simply but firmly. "Your doctor told you right in front of me that there's no evidence to suggest that light exercise will degenerate your condition. And I'm not in the habit of sparking up conversations with Rikkai members."

Yukimura nods, feeling tense in the muscles all over his body; he feels like a taut piece of string, but he knows tennis is not the thing that will break him.

"A light rally." Fuji says. "I will only stop if you push yourself further than you should."

"I'm frustrated, not stupid." Yukimura says. "We have no net; find a centre line we can play by."

Already his attitude has changed, and Fuji can see that this will only be good for him. They mark the centre line by the generator clamped to the wall, and begin to hit.

It won't last long, Fuji knows this by the third hit of the ball. It's already intensifying in it's strength and speed; it's subtle, but it's building. Yukimura is getting too far into it to notice, or hold himself back, and Fuji realises he didn't account for the fact that the game would drag Yukimura in and make him completely unaware of anything else.

When he senses Yukimura is reaching a breaking point, beginning to sweat in tiny drops, he stands still and lets the ball pass him by.

"What did you do that for?" Yukimura demands, his eyes afire. "You're better than that! And you haven't shown me _anything_ yet!"

"You've shown me enough." Fuji replies. "You're sweating, and your knuckles have gone white from gripping the racket too tight. I'll forever have an imprint of the shape of your fingers around it now."

-

"I apologise," Yukimura says when they've both had time to think, and walked back to his room quietly. He sits at the head of the bed, and Fuji sits himself at the other end, both cross-legged. "There's just nothing better to me than tennis. It's wonderful to have the feeling back, if only for a little while."

"You're okay anyway," Fuji shrugs, "that's the most important thing. And I'm happy to have given you something of your life back, if only for a while."

Yukimura smiles to himself; he can still remember the wind weaving through the space on the roof as though to touch everything; his hair, Fuji's clothes, the rackets, the ball. Can still feel the adrenaline coursing through his veins, and still remember how much his fingers hurt when Fuji finally managed to prise the racket out of his unwilling hand. It's better than a sunrise, a good score on a test, peace of mind when something goes right for a friend. It's better than being wrapped up warm on a winter night, or your favourite meal, or surprise gifts, or sex.

He leans forward a little, grabs a fistful of Fuji's shirt, and pulls him close enough to force their lips together. If he can't have tennis, he'll have the next best thing. The room is full of the scent of the peonies, and Yukimura only feels more alive for it.

-


End file.
